


No Golden Knight

by Nevermore_red



Series: Golden Knights [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Miscarriage, Older Man/Younger Woman, Stannis is King, the war is over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa has miscarried their first child. She worries that Stannis will be angered at her failure to provide him with his male heir. Can Stannis show her otherwise?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Golden Knight

**Author's Note:**

> There is detail of a miscarriage in the first part of this, so if that is a trigger for you, then maybe skip this one shot? It isn't graphically detailed, but I know that it's a sensitive subject.

Sansa lay abed, her body sore and tired, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat, her nightdress clinging uncomfortably as the cool wind blew in from the open windows. She closed her eyes as the Maester handed the too small and unmoving bundle to her handmaid Ona, turning her head so she didn't have to see it.

"Rest, My Lady." Brienne, for once not in her armor, said from her seat on the bed next to Sansa, one large hand smoothing her hair from her forehead.

"The King." she whispered, a dread she hadn't felt in years making her feel sick. What would her husband do to her now? Would he send her away? Cast her aside for a more able wife that might give him living heirs?

"Don't worry about that now." Maester Hesten said gently. "You need sleep, Your Grace."

"What was it?" she asked, looking to where Ona was busy doing something at a table nearby, her back to Sansa.

"The babe was too early to be able to tell." Sansa let her head fall back to the pillow. She wasn't sure if that made it better, or worse. She knew of the Kings first wife's inability to give him a living male heir. He had said time and again he had no love for her, only a duty. Did his lack of love stem from her failure to birth him a living son? Would the respect he had for her die away now, like the child she hadn't been able to carry long enough?

"Don't cry, Sansa." Brienne sounded worried and suitably uncomfortable. Sansa hadn't actually realized she was crying until Brienne told her. She just vaguely registered Brienne using her first name instead of addressing her formally. It was fitting, though. There was nothing regal about her at the moment, covered in sweat and blood and weeping as she hadn't in so many years, long before Ser Davos had smuggled her out of the Vale five years ago and brought her to Stannis Baratheon.

She hadn't even cried on their wedding night two years past, during the relative discomfort of their first bedding. Stannis, for all his harsh and cold demeanor, had treated her gently and kindly, even after it had taken her so long to get with child. To be fair, Stannis would go a full moons turn without doing his husbandly duty during their first year. She felt things had changed after that year. He seemed to enjoy being with her, at least in that way, and she never felt more at peace, more protected, than when he was with her.

"He'll hate me." she sobbed, turning on her side to clutch at Brienne's tunic.

"Hush, now." Brienne brought a cool rag to her forehead. "His Grace could never hate you. You've done nothing wrong." Sansa shook her head, but didn't speak. She had done something wrong. She had failed in her duty as his wife and as the Queen. She only hoped he would give her another chance to try again.

It took a long while, but soon Sansa calmed enough to fall asleep, lulled by Brienne's gentle stroking of her hair and the rhythmic swaying of the curtains in the breeze. Her sleep was heavy and dreamless and she thought the water Hesten had given her was probably laced with a calming or sleeping drought.

When she woke, her chambers were dark but for the yellow flickering glow of the fire in the hearth. She was still on her side, but Brienne was no longer beside her. Rolling to her back, she touched a hand to her flat stomach. It was her first indication that something was wrong, her stomach not growing as it should have. She remembered the morning she told Stannis that she was with child, after maester Hesten had confirmed it for her. Stannis never smiled, but the deep lines of his scowl smoothed out like they only ever did when he was with her intimately. His hand had gone for her stomach, stopping just before he touched her.

"May I?" he had asked hesitantly. Sansa had smiled gently at him, taking his hand in both of hers and pressing it into her belly. It wasn't the first time she felt her heart reach out to him, filling with an emotion that she'd only ever read about in stories or heard about in song.

"My Queen." Sansa jumped at the graveled voice from beside the bed, her head whipping to the side to find Stannis straightening up where he had been slumped in a chair.

"Your Grace." her voice shook horribly and she felt tears sting the backs of her eyes.

He rose from his chair, then reseated himself on the mattress next to her. It dipped with his weight. "How are you feeling?"

Sansa opened her mouth, but nothing came out but a little whimper. She felt horrible.

"I'm so sorry, Your Grace." she heard herself saying, her voice still trembling. "So very sorry. My lady mother," her voice broke then and a little sob came out. "My lady mother said it wasn't unusual for women to lose their first pregnancy. Even maester Hesten said I have a good figure for bearing children. Please, Your Grace, I beg of your forgiveness. We can try again, if it pleases you, and I will do whatever I..."

Her words were cut off when Stannis abruptly shifted closer, a callous roughened hand coming into contact with her cheek softly. It was unsettling how much that simple touch calmed her frayed nerves.

"Sansa," her breath caught. He only ever called her by her name when they were in the throes of passion. "stop this. I have no need of your apologies. You couldn't have prevented this, even if you had tried. I am well aware of the frequency of which mothers sometimes lose their pregnancies."

"I can do better than her." Sansa said quickly. "I can be a better wife. A better mother."

"Enough of that." he said sternly. "You have already proven yourself to be a far better wife than Selyse ever considered being."

When she started crying again, Stannis sighed heavily and shifted even closer until he could pull her upper body from the bed and embrace her.

"Listen to me, Sansa." his voice made his chest rumble against her cheek. "I am...grieved that the child was lost. But I am not angry. Not at you. I'm just...relieved that you are sound and healthy."

His words only had her sobbing into his open dublet and wetting his tunic. Stannis, ever uncomfortable with emotional outbursts and physical touch, awkwardly wrapped an arm about her shoulders and attempted to run his fingers through her hair. When they snagged on the tangles there, he simply smoothed his palm along the strands. He started to rock gently until her sobbing died down. 

"What if I am always unable to carry a baby?" her voice sounded hoarse and so very small. "What if I am unable to give you a son? What will you do with me?"

His hand froze on her head, then he grasped her shoulders and pushed her away so he could look at her. "Do with you? What does that mean?"

"The king cannot have a barren wife."

Stannis tipped his head to the side, a fierce scowl on his face. "I am Stannis Baratheon, First of His name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Savior at the Wall and Vanquisher of White Walkers. I, My Queen, can do whatever I please. And it pleases me to have you as my wife. Nothing will change that."

"If I am unable to give you a son..."

"Then Shireen will be my heir. The same if you give me only more daughters." he cupped her cheek in a unusual show of tenderness. "I will need you around to help me select a suitable husband for her, if that is the case. A man worthy of her and of the station as her royal consort."

That same feeling washed over her yet again, a beating in her breast and a yearning for this man, this harsh, unhandsome man that was so very, very dear to her. She swallowed words he would likely not wish to hear, and offered him a smile instead.

"If that is what my King wants." she said demurely.

"What your King wants is for his wife to stop this infernal talk. I will hear no more of it." he tipped her chin up and swiped away the tears from her cheeks. "We will mourn the loss of this child. We will grieve it, and then we will move on, together, as husband and wife. When the time is right, when maester Hesten deems you well and you are ready, we can try again. If it is unsuccessful, then so be it. My only demand is that you not leave me on the birthing bed."

Sansa looked up at her husbands eyes, surprised at the raw demand in his tone. For the first time that night, she realized just how exhausted he looked, how stressed he seemed. He had not only been fearing for the life of their child, but for hers as well.

"Oh, Stannis." she cupped his stubbled cheeks in her hands. "You know I cannot make that promise."

"I demand it of you." he said again. "You are not allowed to leave me, is that understood?"

"I am not a god, my husband, but I will endeavor to do as you bid."

"There are no gods, and if there was, I'd lance the Stranger himself if he tried to take you from me." His fierceness warmed her in a way she couldn't explain.

"As it pleases you, Your Grace."

Stannis nodded curtly, removing his hands from her and rising from the bed, his stern demeanor back in place. "It would please me to see you rest."

Sansa nodded, laying back down and getting comfortable once again. "Will you be leaving, Your Grace?"

"Do you wish it of me?"

"No." she smiled at him from the pillows. Stannis nodded and pulled off his dublet and kicked his boots off. He was never much one for cuddling, so when he lay down beside her on his back, she didn't make a move to hold him. She was just drifting off to sleep when she felt his hand take hers, his fingers lacing through her own. She smiled sleepily and soon drifted off to sleep again, firm in the knowledge that her husband would be there when she woke up. And that he did not see her as any less of a woman, any less of a Queen, or any less of a wife.

~

Sansa paused in her walk around the garden, lifting her face to the warmth of the late afternoon sun. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the flowers and grass around her, a small smile forming on her mouth. She had never thought the day would come where she would find herself happy and content in Kings Landing.

A weight barreling into her legs almost knocked her down. She stumbled a step, but managed to stop herself from a tumble. Looking down, she smiled at the young boy currently hugging her leg through her skirts.

"What is it, Roderick?" she asked him, running her fingers through his black hair. Out here in the sun, it caught the rays and gleamed with an auburn tint. Big blue eyes looked up at her.

"Samsen and Conall are playing knights and they keep saying I have to be the court fool." Sighing, Sansa took the hand of her youngest son and let him lead her to where her other two sons were playing knights with wooden swords.

"Samsen. Conall." she called their names to gain their attention. They both immediately dropped their swords and smiled sweetly at her, as only boys of six could do. "Why are you insisting Roderick be the court fool? Could you not take turns being knights?"

Samsen, far more like his father than his twin brother, or his youngest brother, scowled in a perfect imitation of his father. "Rod is too little to play. He only ever gets in the way, and then whines when he looses."

"You are his older brother, Samsen. It is your duty to teach Rod to fight and be strong." she tilted her head at him, knowing she was playing on his ingrained sense of duty. "Is that a duty you are going to scorn?"

Samsen, looking well chastised, looked at the ground and kicked at the dirt. "If it is my duty." he looked at little Rod, his fifth nameday coming soon, and held out his sword. "Here. I'll show you how best to hold it."

Sansa smiled, satisfied that her sons would play together without argument. At least for a while longer. Turning towards the benches nearby, she went and sat down next to Shireen as she listened to her eight year old sister, Annalise, read to her where she sat daintily on the grass.

"Father will have a fit if he finds out I've been letting you walk around so much." Shireen smiled at her, then down at the large swell of Sansa's belly.

"Hesten says walking his good for me at this point." Sansa argued. "It will help speed things along."

"Do you really wish it to speed by too quickly? You were barely able to make it to the birthing chamber with Rod once your pains started." Sansa laughed lightly at the memory. Roderick had come rather quickly. Not like Annalise, whom she struggled for two whole days to birth, or even like the twins, which troubled her for most of the day and required hours of pushing. Each.

"Perhaps I will forego my rounds about the garden from now on." Sansa conceded, knowing her day was coming soon.

"Perhaps that is best." At the new voice, one that she knew as well as her own, Sansa turned and smiled at her husband. The years without war had been kind to her husband. He was still scowling more often than not, and smiling wasn't something he seemed capable of, even in his happiest moments, but his face was mostly unmarred by lines. He'd given up the fight against baldness two years back, and now shaved his whole head, electing to keep his beard, which, much to Stannis' annoyance, was always full and thick.

Sansa liked the look. Almost as much as she liked how intense his dark blue gaze could be.

"Your Grace." Sansa stood and greeted her husband, allowing him a quick peck to her cheek, the only affections he would show her in public. Not that she minded. He made up for it in privacy of their bedchambers.

Or under the table where no one could see. And those few times in a deserted hallway. And there was that one time out here, in the gardens, at night under the moon and stars. That was likely where this newest addition had been conceived.

"Your swell seems to have dropped." He commented, placing a hand on the top of the large curve of her stomach.

"Yes." she agreed. "Any day now and we will have another addition."

"The final, I should hope." he gave her a meaningful look. He had said after Roderick that he was too old to be fathering any more children. And then came along this babe. Sansa thought it had more to do with his fear each time she laboured, not that he would admit that.

"It is not entirely my fault, husband." she lifted a brow at him and grinned. He blushed a bit at that.

"Just remember my demands, My Queen." he touched her chin.

"I haven't forgotten. And I've met those demands each time so far."

"Good. Now, I have business to attend to. Sit, if you must be out here. Let the maids and Shireen worry about keeping the children in order."

"As it pleases you, my husband." she kissed his cheek before he could leave, smiling at how red his ears grew. "Work well, my love."

Stannis grunted a sort of response, then went to greet Shireen and Annalise, ruffling the younger girls hair while she smiled good naturedly. He took a moment to watch Conall and Samsen sword fight while he picked up Roderick, pointing out things the older boys were doing every now and then.

When it came to naming their children, they decided not to name them after anyone. They would have new names, their own names, as the past was dead and gone, not really forgotten but they thought it better to look towards the future. And these children were the future. Their future together.

Sansa smiled as she watched them. She had given up her hopes and dreams of happiness and the love of a good knight long ago. But giving them up did not mean they hadn't come to be true. She was happy, far happier than she ever imagined she would be, and although Stannis was not the handsome golden knight in her girlhood dreams, she loved him all the more for it and knew without a doubt that he loved her as well.

Words were wind, as she'd heard said once, but actions were what counted and Stannis showed her his love in every touch, every look, in the way he cared for her and the way he respected and protected her. It was a far happier ending than what she had pictured when she had lived here in this place as a girl, suffering at the hands of monsters.

**Author's Note:**

> I have Stansa fever. The only way I can cope is by writing more :) Let me know what you think!!


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